Hot Nights, Dark Desires

by Eden Bradley

  She cursed. “I can’t do this.” She opened her eyes, to see Hex standing there.

  And he was surrounded by people she didn’t know, looking as solid as Hex, but she knew they didn’t live on this plane.

  They all started talking at once, asking her to find people, to send messages to parents and spouses and children.

  “Hex?” She stumbled backward, reeling.

  “What? What is it?”

  “Can’t you see them?” She swept her arm in an arc at the crowd. “They’re everywhere.”

  He looked around, but shook his head. “I told you I can’t see those who have crossed over. Only those who are earthbound, like Arlen. But listen to me, okay?”

  She nodded, clinging to every word because at least his made sense.

  “Tell them to go away. That you’ll speak with them later. You need to find Mattie.”

  “Okay.” Taking a deep, calming breath, she addressed the crowd. “I can’t talk to you now. Please respect that.”

  Disappointment filtered through the throng, but most of them faded away, back to what her mother had called the Other Side, what others called heaven. A few lingered, but she ground her teeth and did her best to ignore them as she called out again to Mattie.

  “Mattie, come to me. I can help you find Arlen.”

  “Who are you?”

  Brenna’s breath left her in a rush. Slowly, she turned away from Hex. There she was: Mattie, dressed in the glittery gold gown in which she’d died. She looked just like she had in the vision Brenna had seen through Arlen.

  “My name is Brenna,” she said, thankful there was no one in this part of the cemetery—no one living anyway—because anyone watching her speak to what they thought was empty air would think she was nuts. “I’m a…friend of Arlen’s.”

  Sorrow filled Mattie’s eyes. “I can’t find him anywhere.”

  Brenna swung around to Hex. “Can you summon Arlen?”

  He gave a single, sharp nod. “He’s never far from you.” His hand went to her face, and he used his thumb to caress her cheekbone in long, sensuous strokes. “Arlen?” he said loudly enough that his voice echoed off the hundreds of mausoleums. “I’ve got Mattie. Here at your grave. I’ll make her mine right here in front of you.”

  Brenna gasped, and so did Mattie. “You’re going to make him so mad—”

  “That’s the point. The angrier he is, the more power he’ll have during the daylight—power he’ll need to see Mattie and cross over.” A mournful wail shook the ground beneath them. “He’s here.”

  Yes, Brenna could see him, next to the monument, lips drawn back in a snarl as he went for Hex.

  “No!” She darted forward as Hex raised his arm, his markings practically sparking with energy. Arlen hissed like a vampire confronted with a crucifix and shrank back.

  “The daylight is my realm, Arlen. I have the power,” Hex growled.

  “Arlen?” Mattie called his name softly, and Hex turned. He could see her now. And oh, thank God, so could Arlen.

  Time seemed to stand still for the span of several heartbeats, and then Arlen and Mattie met in an embrace so powerful that Brenna felt it to her very soul. Tears stung her eyes, and she let them fall freely as Hex wrapped his arms around her. Love spiced the air, rolling off Mattie and Arlen in great waves. Light surrounded them in streaks of gold and silver so bright Brenna was glad she was still wearing her sunglasses.

  “Go with her, Arlen,” Hex said.

  Arlen tore his gaze away from his beloved Mattie for just a moment. “I’m sorry, Brenna. So very sorry.”

  She had to swallow the lump in her throat in order to talk. “I know. Go. Be happy.”

  Before she’d finished speaking, they were gone in a flash of light. A sob finally escaped her as she turned to Hex. “You did it. You really did it. I’m free.”

  He tucked her head against his shoulder and tenderly stroked her hair. “Yeah, you’re free.”

  CHAPTER

  Eight

  Yes, Brenna was free—free of Arlen’s hauntings, free to go back to her modeling career. He wouldn’t have to report this one to ACRO at all, seeing as how Brenna was a GV, short for garden variety, which was what most psychics were. Low-level abilities, a dime a dozen. They’d be welcome at ACRO, but the agency wouldn’t waste resources trying to recruit anyone with less-than-spectacular or unique powers.

  So Brenna could remain free. But Hex felt as if he’d never be truly free again.

  That thought made his throat tighten, for both of them, and still he refused to mourn this soon-to-be separation…there would be plenty of time for that. No, for now he’d make the most of the time he had left with Brenna, before they went their separate ways.

  He paid the cabdriver and helped Brenna up the walk and back inside the house. She was drained—he could see it in her eyes, as if she wasn’t sure what to focus on. She was obviously still seeing spirits, lining up all around her.

  She had so much to learn. “They go away for a little while, and then they come back.” She waved her hand at them. “I need some time. You all need to go away now.”

  He paused for a second. “Did they listen?”

  “I think they did.”

  “You could attempt to shut it all off again,” he told her. “There are ways.” He imagined her in the Amazon with him—her body naked in the tropical rain forest, head thrown back in pleasure.

  But Brenna was shaking her head. “I can see how living like this can be hard, but my God, Hex, it was so beautiful to watch them find each other, to watch them cross over. Is it always like that?”

  “Yeah, it is. Even if they fight it until the end, that feeling of peace when they finally give up the ghost and move on is amazing.” It was why he continued to do what he did, why he didn’t just chuck it all and only do his adventure photography.

  “What happens now?” she asked, and he had an idea what he wanted to happen now.

  He took the black bag off his shoulder, knelt on the floor and unzipped it. He’d had the cab stop at his hotel, had gone up to retrieve the last camera he had, an old Nikon he’d taken into the Amazon with him and kept for obvious sentimental reasons. He’d kept it in good condition, ready to go, and now as Brenna cocked her head quizzically at him, he smiled.

  “Pose for me. Only me,” he said.

  “Like the pictures in the magazine.”

  “Like any way you want. I just want to get you on film.”

  She walked over to the chaise, where it all began, and she began to pose for him—slow, sensuous poses with her long-limbed body, the sundress swirling around her legs as she shifted on the chaise.

  But her poses were different from the other pictures he’d seen of her; the come-hither look was replaced by something softer, something just for him. These poses were fun, and she looked happy.

  “You’re so pretty, Brenna,” he heard himself murmur. “You don’t understand how badly I want you all the time. Especially right now.”

  In response, she tugged her bottom lip between her teeth, and then she smiled and held out her hands to him.

  He couldn’t refuse an invite like that. He set the camera down on its tripod and went to her. “I want to make love to you. Not because of ghosts or possessions or anything else. Just because I want to.”

  “Please…yes,” she said as he lowered himself on top of her and kissed her, long and slow, taking his time the way he hadn’t been able to before, when their couplings had been frantic, full of passion and danger.

  She tasted like sweet wine, and he could get happily lost here, with her, in her. Her tongue moved against his and she made soft noises in her throat as his mouth took hers.

  His hands moved along her shoulders—pushing one strap and then the other off her shoulders, pausing to nip and suck at the smooth, soft skin as the dress fluttered to the floor in a puddle at her feet.

  “I like this dress,” he murmured, as he palmed a breast and mouthed a nipple, teasing it until it was a deep
rose color and impossibly hard. She sucked in a breath as he did so, was teasing the other nipple herself while she watched him, so incredibly sexy, and yet, somehow, she still looked almost shy.

  “It’s just us, Brenna,” he reassured her.

  “I know. I didn’t think I’d be nervous with you like this. It’s just that…”

  It means so much now—more than it did before. “I’ll be right back. Don’t move. Please.” He went to the kitchen, and returned with the last blue Popsicle, already unwrapped. She remained in place and daylight streamed in through the windows, casting a glow on her creamy skin.

  “Your favorite, right?”

  “What are you planning to do with that?”

  “How about I just show rather than tell.” He let the blue ice trail lightly first across one nipple and then the other. She gasped and smiled as he bent down to tug a nipple in his mouth. The hot and cold sensations mingled on his tongue, along with the taste of Brenna and of blue raspberry mixing together.

  He let her slide the Popsicle into her mouth, and she teased him, the way she’d done yesterday, working it between her lips, swirling her tongue around the tip. His shaft hardened to the point of pain at the memory of the way she’d worked him over just that morning.

  She smiled around the blue ice and shifted so her hands could work the button and zipper on his jeans. He let a moan escape as she freed his shaft and stroked it with a warm palm. He felt the slide of smooth skin over hard muscle, took the ice out of her mouth and kissed her, her cold mouth against his warm one.

  She fondled his balls as he let the ice travel down her belly. He moved between her legs as well, let the ice brush her clit. She gasped, shifted, and he took that opportunity to free himself of her grasp and sink to his knees. He flicked his tongue where the ice pop had been, tasting the sticky mixture of sugar and woman before he sucked, bringing the nub between his teeth gently.

  She arched up and cried out, her fingers digging into his hair, and he did it again and again, until she was begging him, her words incoherent.

  Finally, he threw down the melting ice, because he couldn’t wait anymore. She spread her legs for him, actually yanked on his shoulders to bring him in closer, and they ended up with his heavy weight on top of her.

  “Hurry, Hex. Please,” she begged, and he entered her, one long stroke that was slower than before. He kissed her again, his tongue sweeping her mouth, her hands kneading the muscles in his ass, forcing him to pump inside of her deeper with each stroke.

  Together, they rocked back and forth, her body pinned against the cushions, her flesh hot and willing beneath his. Her ankles locked around his back, pulling him into her, deeper and deeper until she started to come, her body going taut, a surprised cry escaping her throat.

  He came just from watching her, a soul-shattering, mind-fucking-blowing orgasm that rivaled any he’d ever had.

  He’d hungered for her for so long and in a way he’d never be able to forget. Right now she was safe and in his arms and he chose to only think about the present.

  Brenna woke to the smell of bacon and eggs. Yawning, she glanced at the bedside clock. Seven A.M. She and Hex had spent the last sixteen hours alternately sleeping and making love—the most incredible sixteen hours of her life.

  Her newly opened psychic eye had attracted spirits all night long, but Hex had taught her some simple techniques to ensure her privacy. He’d reminded her that there were ways to turn off her psychic abilities permanently, but she’d need professional help to do so, and after the experience at the cemetery, she wasn’t sure she wanted to go that route.

  She’d finally understood what her mother had known all along: Those who had crossed over were as alive as those who hadn’t, and they desired contact with loved ones with the same intensity. They just needed people like Brenna’s mom to help. To listen.

  Brenna wasn’t about to make a career of listening, but she wasn’t ready to shut out anyone who needed help either.

  Feeling better than she had in years, she threw on a short silk robe and padded barefoot down to the kitchen, where Hex was loading plates with food. Sunlight streaked through the three kitchen windows, to cast dappled shadows on his bare back, where his muscles flexed with every sure, efficient motion he made.

  “Look at you and your domesticity. I’m impressed.”

  He laughed, a deep rumble that tripped her heart. “If I hadn’t learned to cook a long time ago, I’d have starved.”

  “You’ve been alone for a long time, haven’t you?”

  His smile faded. “Yeah.” He gestured to the table. “Have a seat.”

  The food was wonderful. So much so that she had to stop herself from reaching for a second helping of bacon.

  “Have more,” he said.

  “Thanks, but I can’t.”

  He shifted toward her, his eyes darkening seductively. “If I offer to feed you, will you reconsider?”

  “That’s a pretty tempting offer.” Drawn by the low, rough edge of his voice and the full, lush line of his mouth, she leaned forward, until their lips nearly touched. “A lot about you is tempting.”

  He brushed his lips over hers, and instantly her nipples hardened and her sex tingled, as though they hadn’t gone a dozen rounds last night. Or maybe because of it. Her body remembered every lick, kiss, suck…it remembered how he’d fetched another Popsicle and used it in such wicked ways that she would never look at one the same way again.

  “So that’s a yes?”

  She sighed. “You’re so bad. But I can’t. Too fattening.”

  Frowning, he drew back. “Sweetheart, a couple or twenty pounds is not going to hurt you.”

  “It’ll hurt my career. Which I have back, thanks to you.”

  There was a distinct shift in the atmosphere of the kitchen, one that had nothing to do with ghosts. “When do you leave?”

  She dragged her fork through the bits of egg on her plate. “The sooner the better, I think.”

  He pushed away from the table and started to gather the dishes. “Right. Rip the bandage off quickly. Less painful that way.”

  Silence settled like a shroud. Even the sound of the dishes clanking in the sink seemed muted. She stood, took a step toward him. “You could come with me.”

  He shut off the water but didn’t look at her. “I can’t.”

  “You won’t.”

  “I’d never fit into your world, Brenna.” His tone said he didn’t think she’d fit in anymore either, but he was wrong. New Orleans was not where she belonged, and nothing that had happened over the last couple of days could change that.

  “So this is it? We go our separate ways and pretend this was nothing but a nightmare?”

  He swung around and pinned her with a heated stare. “We go our separate ways,” he gritted out. “But I won’t think on any of this as a nightmare.”

  Her heart hurt so much she had to force herself to breathe. “Me either.”

  “Then don’t go. You’ll need help with your new gift. I told you I’d be there for you. I’ll take care of you.”

  God, it was so tempting to take him up on his offer. But right now, she was too close to him, to the situation. That distance they’d talked about was more important than ever, and the desire to run far and fast made her temples throb.

  “I can’t, Hex. Not now. I need time. I need the normal world.”

  “A world where the men in your life don’t see ghosts?” Ice formed a glaze over his eyes. “I thought we were through hiding, but I guess I was wrong.”

  An onslaught of emotion made her chest ache. “I’m not hiding from my ability. You saw me in the cemetery—”

  “You’re hiding from me, Brenna. From what you feel for me. And you’re using the paranormal as an excuse.”

  She jerked like she’d been slapped. “You’re so far off base.”

  “Am I? You ever been serious with anyone? Ever talked marriage and kids?”

  “Have you?” she challenged, and his gaze narrowed.


  “No. But for the first time, I want to remedy that.”

  Oh, God. She pushed out an agonizingly slow breath through a suddenly narrow passage, and now she knew what toothpaste must feel like when it came out of the tube.

  “I can’t do this,” she whispered, frantically looking around for a distraction. Anything to put an end to this conversation. “I—I have so much to do. I have to contact my agency. Sell the house—”

  “I’ll buy it.”

  “What?”

  He looked as surprised as she was, but he quickly recovered, his expression shuttering. “I can write you a check right now. I’ll take good care of her.”

  She hadn’t truly wanted to sell the house, but she needed the money to survive until her first modeling job, and if he could write her a check right now…

  “Yes. Fine.” Her voice sounded distant. Hollow. “It’ll take me a couple of days to pack and make arrangements to move.”

  “No problem.”

  She swallowed at the abruptness in his voice. Their relationship couldn’t end this way. The thought of losing him so quickly was like a hot poker through the gut, and she spoke before she could think things through. “I’d like it if you could stay until I go.”

  Hex cursed. “How can you ask that of me?”

  “I just thought—”

  “What, that I’m a masochist? That I’d be happy to sit around and beg for whatever pity-scraps the great Brenna St. James deigns to dole out to the lowly photographer, until she leaves without a backward glance?”

  She stopped breathing. “That’s not what I want.”

  He shook his head and grabbed his camera, which had been sitting on the counter. “I don’t think you know what you want. No, that’s not true. You know. You just won’t admit it. So who’s the coward now?” He turned on his heel and headed for the front door.

  “Hex…”

  He paused, hand on the knob. “Unless you’re going to tell me you aren’t leaving, don’t say anything.”